


A Dragonborn's Fate

by Piratess_of_Tortuga



Series: The Listener, the Keeper, and the Speaker [2]
Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Contract, Dark Brotherhood - Freeform, F/M, Fighting, Spin-Off, Vampirism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2020-11-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:55:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27401569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Piratess_of_Tortuga/pseuds/Piratess_of_Tortuga
Summary: There’s one man in Skyrim who seems to be out of the Dark Brotherhood’s reach. As the guild’s members fall one by one before him, it’s up to the Listener herself to face him.  (Lost, Damned, and Chosen spin-off)
Relationships: Female Listener/Cicero, Female Listener/Lucien Lachance
Series: The Listener, the Keeper, and the Speaker [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2001805
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	1. The wagon

A wagon stood on the side of the road. A sturdy brown horse lied dead on the ground next to it along with two travellers. It seemed to be the work of ordinary bandits, but that was a false assumption. Strangely enough, it was the Falmer—the reclusive, blind creatures—who had attacked the wagon, but they had only managed to kill the poor horse. The travellers, on the other hand, had seemed to be blessed by the Divines in their time of need. Two more travellers had shown up on the scene just in time and taken care of the unusual marauders **.** Upon offering a reward for saving them, however, the Nord and the Redguard had been turned down. There had been only one compensation the Dunmer woman dressed in black armour and the eccentric Imperial travelling with her had been willing to accept: their lives.

***

A Nord walked along the sloppily paved road with a wisp hovering over his head. To walk alone in the dark like that… such arrogance.

Except he wasn’t an ordinary traveller, and he wasn’t truly alone.

The vampire sensed a beast of Hircine skulking not far away from the Nord. He was quite the man, apparently, as he had already slain several Dark Brotherhood initiates, and not even the innocent-appearing Babette had managed to take his life. He had a werewolf travelling with him, and rumour had it that he was the new Harbinger of the Companions, Skyrim’s equivalent to the Fighters Guild of Cyrodiil.

So admirable, so annoying was this so-called Dragonborn.

Satheri laid low on the nearby cliff. Eavesdropping, bribery, and threats had led her and Cicero here in their hunt of the Nord who had already cost the guild dearly enough. Being the Keeper, her beloved wasn’t allowed to take contracts, but protecting the Listener?

The Night Mother would surely survive a little while without constant attention.

Jokes aside, the Dragonborn was about to face a surprise.

See, even if a random murder was good practice at any time, the travellers’ death had served a purpose. The vampire’s bloodlust had been sated, and now, there was a wagon and a dead horse to use as a decoy. The stream had probably taken the Falmer, the Nord, and the Redguard far by now, and their scent couldn’t be detected even with the sharpest sense of smell.

With all the distractions removed, the stage was free for the jester to put on a show. 

Miserable wailing was carried all over the surrounding wilderness. The Dragonborn was within an earshot, and the sound guided him straight to its source.

Cicero had crouched next to the wagon, and his cries for help turned into a whimper.

The brown-haired Nord lowered his one-hand axe as he walked closer to the Imperial wearing a jester’s outfit.

“What happened?” the hero watched his tone not to scare the strange man further.

“Creatures! _Hideous_ creatures with swords and bows!” Cicero dramatized. “Attacked me and killed my horse. Poor Cicero! Poor Buttercup!”

“Calm down. Can you tell me anything about those creatures?”

“At dusk they came, awful, _awful_ beasts _._ Without eyes they were, they’re nostrils wide as that off a mammoth’s—and their skin! Pale as snow!”

“Falmer? On the surface? But that’s…” the Nord found the explanation hard to believe even if it was true—well, in part at least.

“But I saw them, I did!” the Imperial took a fearful peek from behind the wagon. “They’re… not here anymore, are they?”

“You can rest easy. There’s nothing to fear here.”

_Tsk, such lies._

The play went on. The werewolf continued to investigate the surroundings while the Dragonborn strived to ease Cicero’s mind. The latter’s performance made the hiding Dunmer smile.

He was such a good actor, her beloved. The squalor, the sadness, the tragedy… So convincing.

However, no matter Cicero’s efforts, the Nord hadn’t let down his guard. He had lowered his axe, of course, but he still held it in his hand and was ready to use it. On the other hand, he wouldn’t probably need it—the word was that he could use his voice in unpleasant ways, after all.

The vampire deemed it wise to lay low on the cliff for a while longer.

The werewolf’s red aura followed the riverbank before heading uphill towards south-west where the Falmer had come from. There was a way, or rather a person the thought of whom made the Dunmer crack another smile, to keep the beast busy. Recklessness wasn’t a quality of a good Listener, however, and she knew it would be against everything she had learned during her time with the Brotherhood. 

Luckily, there was no need to ponder.

As if Sithis himself had been on her side, giving her the blessing of the Void, the werewolf caught the dank scent of the Falmer and wandered off to investigate.

_Perfect._

A lone torchbug took flight from above the cliff. A moment later, the hysterical, fearful ranting below stopped, and silence swept over the road.

The Dragonborn squinted his eyes when the Imperial suddenly straightened himself and started to pat the dust off his clothes.

“I’m sure it’s safe now”, the grandeur of his speech diminished, and a lower, ingratiating tone replaced it, “must be with a hero such as you present.”

“You know who I am?” the Nord grew suspicious.

“Of course I do. You’re the one who saved me! Scared those twisted creatures finally away and saved the day!”

“Yes, well—I should get going. You’re gonna be alright without your horse?”

“Oh, don’t worry about me”, the jester replied jollily and climbed to sit on the edge of the wagon. “I came here on foot.”

The hold on the war axe tightened, and silent contempt gloomed the Dragonborn’s face.

“There were no Falmer to start with, was there?” he nodded towards the slain horse. “You attacked the wagon yourself and disposed of its real owners.”

His seriousness amused Cicero.

“The pale elves came and slew the mare”, he giggled a little. “The travellers thought to be in luck until they realised that their saviour was…”

The Nord managed to fend off the incoming attack in the nick of time and finished the sentence on behalf of the jester who had begun to jiggle with laugher.

“… _a vampire_.” 


	2. The clash of heroes

The wisp illuminated the features of the pale-skinned Dunmer who lowered her hood after she straightened up. The treacherous beauty on her ageless face hid the predator inside her well, but her abilities and strength revealed the truth right away.

“I half-expected to be thrown away by your infamous vocal talents”, she almost cooed **.** “Even so, I’m impressed. Not many would have reacted in time.”

“Who are you?” the Nord demanded with his axe raised in a protective position.

“Mm-hmm, that’s not a part of this game, is it? But, in an age long past, I was a hero just like you, my dear Dragonborn. Let that be enough.”

“It’s a bit unfair since you obviously know who I am, don’t you think?” 

“Such insatiable curiosity”, the Listener smirked and glanced at Cicero. “Shall we tell him?”

He immediately appeared more serious and pretended to evaluate the Nord **.**

“Depends”, he then mused. “How merciful is the lovely night creature willing to be?”

They were like two cats playing with their prey, and the latter was getting impatient.

“Attacks have been reported to happen often around here”, the Dragonborn conjured another wisp before the previous one disappeared. “Are you behind them?”

“That honour belongs to our dear snow elf friends, I imagine”, Satheri replied with a carefree shrug. “ _We_ are here just for you. Take it as a courtesy from the Night Mother.”

“The Night M… Well, well. The Dark Brotherhood.”

“Ooh, this one’s clever!” Cicero enthused darkly.

_Indeed, he is._

The Blade of Woe rose towards the Nord in a warning.

“You’ve cost us several initiates, Dragonborn. You almost _killed_ Babette”, the Dunmer’s nose wrinkled as she emphasized the last notion. “Now, we’re here to take care of you personally.” 

The challenge was swiftly accepted.

Cicero jumped down from the wagon with an ebony dagger in his hand. It was meant to distract the target from the actual attack, but they were both dodged.

The Dragonborn was skilled, it had to be admitted, but so were they.

The wisp zig-zagged above while he avoided the two daggers and the sharp claws of a vampire. As was to be expected, the ruckus attracted the attention of his companion who had skulked away from the scene earlier.

The dark elf’s sensitive ears caught the puffing breath of the werewolf, revealing her the direction from which it was coming from **.**

She dealt a blow with her dagger, but it was rather meant to push the Dragonborn off-balance than to actually harm him. His steel-covered body got staggered, and he was instantly forced to protect himself from another attack.

An orange hue made the vampire’s eyes glow brighter as she raised her left hand.

“Waiting for help, are we?” she mused audibly with a blue glow illuminating her face. “I don’t think so.”

The Nord’s lycanthropic ally was about to attack under the cover of darkness when a spectral form appeared in front of it.

A loud yelp revealed that it had been taken unaware.

The sound alarmed the Dragonborn, and he took distance to Cicero who posed the most immediate threat to him.

“Aela!” he called out to his companion who had been forced to a fight by the late Speaker.

Satheri’s lips gave away a controlled hint of her mirth **.**

“Naughty boy”, she scolded the hero, “that’s called cheating.”

“’Cheating’? Then what’s this?” he jeered, nodding towards the jester.

“Oh, don’t act up like that. Let’s say that we’re even.”

“Doesn’t seem like it.”

That was when Cicero sheathed his dagger and stepped aside. He didn’t do so willingly, Satheri knew it, but he had faith in the abilities she had proven many times over. 

A smug grin revealed the pure white tips of her fangs as she leered at the Nord. 

“You’re looking at the wrong direction”, she warned the man who kept his eye on the unpredictable Imperial **.** “I’m standing right here.”

Swift as a thought, the vampire was upon her intended prey. She slashed towards him with her blade, forcing him to retaliate and reached to scratch the surface of his armour with her free hand.

_A heavy armour of steel… So distasteful and clumsy._

“This won’t protect you”, the Dunmer taunted her opponent. “Before the night ends, this will only adorn your drained corpse.“

“If you know so much about me, assassin”, he grunted as he pushed her farther away, “then you must have heard what a Dovahkiin can do.”

“Ah, your infamous Voice”, she started to circle him. “Go ahead, show me.”

Satheri wouldn’t have taken the Nord for someone to get so easily goaded, but his actions proved her wrong. The warrior’s brown eyes sought to pierce her with their stare while he tilted his head forward, inhaled, and then he indeed Shouted **.**

Dragon fire scorched the landscape, leaving every shrub and weed it touched burning in its wake.

For someone like Satheri, such flames could prove fatal, but she didn’t give away even the slightest sign of fear. She merely flashed her opponent a smile.

“Enlightening”.

Cicero didn’t laugh at her remark.

_Don’t worry, beloved,_ the Listener’s thought was aimed both at the Keeper as well as the Speaker **.** _I’m not about to end up charred like a skeever._

Besides, having such a worthy adversary was thrilling.

The vampire waited patiently this time, but the next flaming breath shone with its absence. Apparently, it couldn’t be used again right away.

All the better for her.

“Was that your best shot?” she wondered, belittling the hero. “Impressive. Now, maybe it’s only fair that I show you mine.”

A cloud of bats surged upwards from the spot the dark-armoured Dunmer had stood on. The Dragonborn had surely encountered others of her kind before, but her stunt seemed to be unfamiliar to him.

A dark chuckle from atop the wagon mocked him as he peered at the night sky, trying to see the enemy.

“She’s good, isn’t she?” the jester mused with admiration.

The Dragonborn didn’t bother to argue as he hearkened the silence that impended afterwards. He gritted his teeth together when he heard another yelp coming from the site of another duel, but he didn’t move.

The bloodthirsty assassin could strike at any moment, even…

“ ** _Feim Zii Gron_**!”

…now.

The bats nearly hit the ground as they flew right through the spectral-like Nord. The cloud scattered at first, but it soon formed a swirl above a spot near him.

Satheri emerged from amidst it, genuinely impressed behind her calm demeanour. Her eyes narrowed to fiery slits as she inspected the prey she hadn’t been able to touch. Apparently, it had been a misconception to presume that the Dragonborn’s power wouldn’t return so quickly, but then again, those hadn’t been the words he had used before.

Could he use other word combinations right after another, or…?

_Hmm,_ the vampire reached her hand that went right through the Nord _._ “Is this the part where we speak about cheating again?”

“If you’re not going to fight fair, why should I?” the Dragonborn was quick to counter her remark, and to be honest, it was a fair point.

Satheri didn’t bother to hide her admiration anymore.

“This one’s truly clever.”

_Capable also. With someone like him_ … _Hmm._


	3. An unusual offer

The ethereal warrior folded his arms across his chest. He poked fun at the assassins by simply standing idly in front of them, most likely thinking that it would drive them to rash decisions and rage.

That assumption was soon proved incorrect.

The battle couldn’t continue until the Dragonborn assumed his true form, that was true, but instead of tearing at the Dunmer’s nerves, it gave her time to think. While her beloved sat on the wagon, cool as a cucumber, she played with the little idea of hers. 

If the Dragonborn was truly talented and his tricks weren’t just for show, perhaps he could be of benefit to the Family?

It wasn’t unheard of for a target to become an assassin, after all. It had happened to Telaendril, Satheri’s former sister. As the Bosmer had told it, her father had hired the Dark Brotherhood to get rid of her, and the task had fallen onto none other than Lucien. How she had managed to escape him, the story didn’t tell. However, after she had gotten payback on her father for his treachery, Lucien had confronted her under different circumstances. After that, Telaendril had become part of the Family, and she had served it faithfully until Bellamont’s devious plan had led to the purification of the Cheydinhal Sanctuary.

Perhaps the Dragonborn had earned a chance to prove himself in a similar manner, and all that was needed was a subtle lead.

_Well, when put in that way… Why not?_

The Listener’s menacing demeanour was suddenly softened by an amicable smile, or at least it was meant to do so.

The bright lines above the Dragonborn’s hollow-like eyes formed a suspicious frown upon hearing something he certainly hadn’t expected.

“It seems that we have something to discuss.” 

Before the actual offer was able to take place, a chilling howl pierced the night. Considering who this “Aela” was fighting, one could have assumed the sound to be the sign of one final attack before death.

However, the sound didn’t fade — it came closer.

The outlines of the wisp hovering over the Dragonborn blurred until it vanished completely. The ethereal hero became the only faint beacon of light in the darkness.

Did he really think that removing the light would help his ally to gain the advantage? Both Satheri and Cicero had the means to see in the dark without torches and such. Shouldn’t that be obvious by now?

While the Dunmer wondered about the catch behind the Nord’s little stunt, she heard Lucien’s warning that made her squint her eyes in dismay.

 _It’s coming for you_ , the Speaker’s voice echoed inside her head.

“Can’t you just stay put”, the vampire growled in an undertone as her glowing gaze shifted to the direction of the closing threat. _What a stubborn beast._

While Satheri prepared for a counterattack, there was a slight change in the colour of the Dragonborn’s form. The glow around his legs dimmed, and their blue hue was replaced by the dark shine of steel. 

The vampire relied on her senses to notice a possible attack in time, but she didn’t see what was happening.

The werewolf had already entered her field of vision, and she prepared to dash towards it with her dagger and push it all the way into the icy Karth river. She kept staring ahead, her face remaining unchanged, waiting for the opportune moment to strike.

 _Be cautious, my nightshade,_ she saw Lucien following it from a distance for he couldn’t keep up with its pace. _There are few things fiercer than a wounded werewolf._

 _I appreciate your concern_ ¸ Satheri thought, _but_ _this will be over…_

As it sometimes happened, she found herself blinded by hubris.

The werewolf was already close enough when she sensed a slight air current next to her. She turned to fend off the incoming blow from her right, leaving her left side unprotected from another.

As close as it was, however, she wouldn’t meet the Dread Father today.

The merchant’s wagon stood as the sole witness to what was happening on the road.

The werewolf rushed towards the vampire with its teeth bared, its right hand raised. Its claws would have done massive damage to her, probably even killed her, haven’t the ebony dagger appeared to stop them.

The bloodied beast yelped and fell a few steps back when the Keeper sliced at its fingers with his blade.

 _Cicero_ , Satheri prevented her gaze from wandering, and a bloody tear of frustration spread along the lower lid of her left eye as she grimaced.

Her chin nearly touched her chest as she glared at the Dragonborn who seemed to be battling with equal emotions. Neither of them could do anything but to trust in their companions and try to solve their own fight as quickly as possible.

Satheri was willing to make the Nord the offer as she had intended, but should his pet happen to harm Cicero…

 _No,_ she refused to think about the matter. _He’ll make it. Otherwise, we’ll both end up in the Void. You hear me, Mother? We **both** will. _

The help arrived in the form of a long-dead assassin. While the jester kept avoiding the deadly blows aimed at him, Lucien sank his blade into the werecreature’s back. The brown-furred predator flew into a pain-incited rage, and its adversaries gave it space as it swung its muscular arms to aimlessly attack everything around it.

The scene caught the vampire’s eye, spurring her to an all-out fight.

The Dragonborn forced her to step back, trying to get out of her reach before using his infamous weapon. However, he didn’t get the chance to do so. Before he even had the chance to utter the second word of the Shout, a hard kick landed on his chin. The hit disrupted the conjuring of the fiery breath of his, and only a spark managed to fly out into the air. Satheri grabbed his right hand firmly by the wrist while yanking his hair to prevent any nasty vocal surprises. Thought his exposed jugular tempted her to enjoy a sanguine meal, she kept her thirst in check.

Satisfaction brought a sinister grin to her lips as she inspected the Nord’s defiant expression.

Even though facing an imminent threat of being sucked dry, he was just like her and showed no fear.

_This one truly has guts._

…and he showed that too.

Skilled and infamous as she was, even the Listener of the Dark Brotherhood made mistakes. Well, no-one had three hands so it could have happened to anyone to be exact, but still, her foe managed to surprise her. Quicker than any ordinary mortal, the Nord drew a dagger hidden in a holster behind his back and sunk it into Satheri’s thigh. She grunted in pain.

“No”, she heard Cicero’s silent worry that quickly turned to anger. “ _Pesky Voice-hurler, I’ll show you!_ ”

 _I’m alright_ , Satheri’s thoughts were carried to Lucien through the pain gnawing at her right leg. _Force the beast to the ground._

The Speaker worried for her too, but he knew when she was serious.

As for Cicero’s concern, she banished it with a laugh that strengthened the longer it got.

Now, it was the Dragonborn’s turn to voice out his pain.

Satheri focused her strength and began to twist his right wrist until it let out a nasty crack and he dropped his axe.

“I’m afraid that you’ll have to do better than that.”

“Oblivion take you”, the Nord hissed, still holding onto the dagger.

_Ah, the irony…_

“I visited the Deadlands several times, actually, but I’d rather not do so again—not enough pastries there, you know.”

Her joke confused him briefly, and it allowed her to wrench his hand off the blade that still stuck out from her thigh.

“Being a hero can be excruciating. Believe me, I know”, she told him. “Thus, I’ve got a proposition for you.”

The werewolf dropped to the ground with a loud thud. The beast’s low growl was interrupted by whine when it finally yielded to the numerous wounds inflicted by its two foes. The Dragonborn tried to glance at the defeated companion in the scarce light provided by the two moons, fearing that a killing blow would be struck **.**

It wasn’t.

“Go ahead”, the hero hid his emotions behind the defiant scowl he directed at Satheri. “Sent me to Sovngarde.”

“Don’t be so gloom, Dragonborn”, the Dunmer chatted, “it’s your lucky day.”

“Excuse me if I don’t see it the same way.”

The vampire couldn’t help chuckling.

“What a character you are. Grouse all you want, but if you want to save your life as well as that of the beast, hear me out. Go to Riften and kill the Jarl’s steward. Do this, and the next time we meet, I’ll have a proposition for you.”

After saying what she had intended, the former Champion of Cyrodiil let the new hero of the age from her grasp. He didn’t Shout at her even if he could have. Instead of attacking, he recovered rather quickly and hurried to help the werewolf who transformed into a Nord.

“Hold on, Aela”, he ignored the two assassins who left to join the Listener. “I’m here.”

Satheri didn’t flinch when she finally drew the steel dagger out of her flesh. There were pains far worse than that, and she had experienced enough of them not to care about the lesser ones.

The Keeper approached her with haste while she tossed the blade onto the ground after running her gaze along its length.

“My darling—stabbed, hit, and hurt!” he lamented as he examined her body swiftly for other visible wounds. “Cicero should have protected you better.”

“I’m sorry if I gave you any reason to worry, sweet jester”, she touched his right cheek affectionately with hers and peeked at Lucien who stopped a few steps away from them. “You gave me quite the scare, too, charging at the werewolf like that.”

“I promised to protect you, keep you safe and sound—and that I shall do.”

A smile crossed the Listener’s lips— the kind only two people had managed to draw from her.

“I know”, her soft lips touched the Imperial’s skin **.** “We should return home. Our work here is done.”

“Of course, of course. Mother awaits us! But are you… well enough to make the journey?” the jester glanced at the nasty wound on her leg.

“I’m sure we’ll find a cosy little village to mend the wound in”, Satheri couldn’t help smirking. “If you’re still worried after that, you can examine it later.”

Her expression was returned in equal measure.

“If it’s the Listener’s will, who am I to say no?” 


End file.
